Chapter 7

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He remembered the small red-haired girl that was led shivering into the Great Hall.

He and Thor had gathered with Odin to inspect the new Meretrix recruitment. Loki was bored, infinitely preferring to seduce the higher class women of the court than choose from the Palace's harem unless absolutely necessary.

Odin strode up the line of girls, lifting their faces and pulling open their mouths to scrutinise their teeth. Loki raked a lackadaisical eye down the line and was struck by the vibrancy of the fifth girl's red hair. Pretty but too young. Not enough to tempt him. Maybe in a few years, with more experience under her belt.

He sighed and examined his fingernails, eager to get back to his books.

A yelp and sharp slap brought him back to the room, just in time to see Thor step forward beside him. The guards rushed forward to restrain the red-head and Odin held his hand to his reddened cheek.

“Witch!” he boomed, “You dare strike the AllFather?!”

The girl shrank away as he bellowed into her face.

“You are a slave now, harridan and you will learn respect.”

Odin turned to the guards.

“Take her to the dungeons and restrain her. No food, no water until I command. Have the others delivered to their quarters and prepared for service. NOW!”

With that, pride stung and anger flowing through his veins, Odin stalked from the hall.

As the rest were sent away, Loki and Thor exchanged glances.

“Well, that was certainly different.” Loki muttered.

“Yes, we'll see how long that one lasts! And who is brave enough to take her on!” Thor replied.

That was the last he had heard of the girl, never bothering to enquire after her. Why should he care about such a slave? But now, knowing something of her identity, he wondered at what had become of her.

He looked back at Rebecca, trembling in her cell with pain and grief.

Something like pity coursed through him and he felt compelled to comfort her.

“I hate you to disappoint you girl, but your anger towards me is misplaced.”

She lifted her eyes to him, searching his face for deceit.

“I prefer a nobler breed for my bedfellow. Though I cannot account for the tastes of the others of my kind.”

He caught her gaze and gestured to his surroundings, “I can't say I'm all too warm toward them myself, as you can plainly see.”

God of Lies he may be, but there was nothing in his air to make her think anything he was saying was false.

“In fact, should you still wish for vengeance, my friendship may be worth more than you think.”

A cool sensation spread across her back, making her gasp and all vestige of pain left her.

She flung her hands behind her, feeling only smooth, unmarked skin. Mouth agape, she stood and stared over at Loki in amazement.

That smirk again.

“You're welcome.”

And with a final glance he walked back to lounge on his bed, turning all his attention to one of his books.

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